


Pull me back from the dark

by Limes_Parton



Series: Chef de Cuisine and his Communard [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aiding and Abetting, Antique Corkscrews, Cannibalism, Copycat - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Platonic BDSM, Serial Killers, Spying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limes_Parton/pseuds/Limes_Parton
Summary: Will is conflicted because he is sure that Hannibal is a serial killer but he doesn't want to expose him.Also, Will accidentally recorded a softporn in form of many pictures.So he throws a coin to decide.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Chef de Cuisine and his Communard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010571
Kudos: 46





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was written over a year ago, for the occasion of my best friends 24th birthday. She wanted to read it again and asked me for an epub to have the story on her phone/ ereader. And thus, the idea for posting this so she could find it anytime was born. Enjoy.

Will looked at his notes again. He was siting in Starbucks. Not a place he frequented often, but he needed new surroundings for a new perspective. Starbucks was just familiar enough to feel safe to go over his notes, but just different enough from his usual, independent store to feel new and different.  
He read over the familiar notes, the character study he had made. The map with the murders, the numbers on the map telling him in which order they had been committed. He had a list, followed by the Analysis of each murder in order. But the paper his eyes were drawn back to was the character study he had made.  
Hannibal was controlled and methodical, had trained and practiced as a surgeon. He knew everything there was to now about methodology of serial killers because he had access to FBI files thanks to his career change from surgeon to FBI-Psychiatrist. He had and has affluent finances and likes to play games with the people surrounding him. He likes to omit details or facts, like Will’s own encephalitis, just for the heck of it.  
And since he had found Hannibal’s secret room with all of Hannibal’s sentimental keepsakes, he knew why. His sister was murdered and the murderer made him eat her. Will shuddered. He needed to come to a decision: Getting all the evidence he had in form of pictures and timeframes to the FBI, or helping Hannibal.  
Will mentally hit himself. Of course he needed to get all of this to the FBI. What else could he do?  
Will looked over his notes again. He looked over all of the times a murder with serial killer characteristics was committed. He looked at his notes again. He probably shouldn’t have paid a hacker to get him Hannibal’s GPS coordinates. Of course, Hannibal, smart cookie that he was, had left his phone at home when he committed a murder. That in itself was a pattern Will saw clearly before him now. Will sometimes doubted his higher faculties. Why did he want Hannibal to be innocent? He wasn’t and Will knew that. Why did he search for a clue then, that Hannibal didn’t commit the murders. Why didn’t he want Hannibal to be the Chesapeake Ripper, when the facts so clearly spoke against him?  
Will held his breath at one datapoint. That was his address. That was his home. Hannibal had been at his home. When he himself, very obviously, wasn’t because he was giving a lecture. And both of those times, someone had committed a murder that fit every characteristic of the Chesapeake Ripper murders. It had everything, daytime murder, daring, but logically planned and executed. Clinical, even.  
That meant that Hannibal was innocent of these two murders. It didn’t mean that he hadn’t committed the other murders, but there was a possibility at least. Or, Hannibal had planned this.  
There could only be two options for this: Either, Hannibal had really been in his home, for whatever reason, or he had placed his phone there to give himself an alibi. But if it was supposed to establish an alibi, that alibi was pretty shaky. Will could proof that he wasn’t at home at those times. Any prosecutor could proof that Will wasn’t home at those times, even if he wanted to be. Hannibal knew this. Hannibal had to know this. So why was he at his home?!  
Will couldn’t decide. He didn’t know what to do. Even if Hannibal hadn’t killed those two people, the other kills were probably still on his head and no matter how much Will loved Hannibal, he had to report this. He had to.  
Will buried his head in his hands. He needed time to decide but the longer he waited, the more likely it became that another person would be murdered. He gave himself 48 hours and set an alarm on his phone. If he didn’t come to a decision in 48 hours, he would flip a coin. Head: report Hannibal. Number: Talk to Hannibal. He emptied his mug, collected his notes and left the café.


	2. Chapter One

It was two days later, Will came home from a long day at the academy. His feet ached and he was tired. He hadn’t slept properly and he wanted food and the timer on his phone would go off in two hours and he really, really, needed sleep and relaxation and he didn’t want to deal with the bills he had fished out of the letterbox on his way in.   
Will threw a microwaveable casserole into the Microwave and set the timer. He changed from his suit into T-shirt and sweatpants and collected his casserole and a glass of water and went into the living room. Eating in front of the TV would probably drive Hannibal mad. The dish itself would drive him mad. Will smirked at the thought.   
He ate the casserole and watched late night show reruns till he felt his shoulders sag and some of the tension leave him. Holy hell, students were little pests sometimes. He threw away the packaging of his food and set down with all his bills at the kitchen table. Water bill, electricity… Will got his laptop and time set payments for the next three months online.   
He opened the next letter. The outside of the envelope proclaimed proudly in big, bold red letters “Last Notice” and on the inside, there was a folded paper. The paper told him that he had ordered a SpyCam x34-7 four weeks ago and the company had yet to receive any payment. This was his last chance to pay or the matter would be handed over to a dept collector. Will sighed. His encephalitis was only discovered three weeks ago and he had spent one and a half weeks in hospital, receiving treatment. He still had to take medication every morning to combat the inflammation.  
He still had all the letters that had collected during that time, but everything that wasn’t a bill that he recognized had wandered into his desk drawer without being looked at. He couldn’t remember ordering this device, but he had been paranoid and had severe hallucinations because of his illness. So… he had probably ordered it. Will felt a sudden pang of loneliness. He had given all his dogs away when he had frequent hallucinations. Hell, he had even thrown away every plant in the house because he thought that the plants weren’t what they seemed and were secretly poisoning him. He had dreamt about waking up, leaves growing out of his skin like the fungi farm of bodies he had seen on one of the first cases he had with Hannibal and the FBI.   
Either, somebody had stolen the package with the spy camera from his front porch, or he had installed it somewhere and couldn’t remember.   
Will sighed again and wired the two hundred bugs online to the company. In the “Note” part of the wire, he wrote a short apology.   
Will’s breath caught in his throat when the alarm on his phone went off. He needed to decide. He got up and went to the hallway, where he had a bowl with all kinds of nick-nacks. He fished out a fake roman coin he had gotten when he visited a museum in England years and years back.   
He threw the coin. Just as the coin left his hand, he knew that he wanted it to land on number. He didn’t want to lose Hannibal. He loved the food obsessed, orderly older man. He didn’t want him to be a serial killer and he didn’t want him to be incarcerated. Will hated himself so much when relief washed over him as the coin landed in his palm and displayed number.   
He was aiding and abetting a potential serial killer.   
He would join Hannibal in hell for this.   
Will put the coin back into his bric-a-brac bowl and went upstairs to his office. He filed the electricity and water bill and went through the other letters he had ignored till now. He found several payment notes from the company he had purchased the camera from. One of the letters from the company didn’t contain that though, instead, it contained the password for a cloud where the camera uploaded all it’s photos to. The camera was supposed to take a picture every 5 seconds if it detected movement. Otherwise, it would be silent. Intrigued, Will followed the instructions from the letter to a website where he entered his information and the password.   
He clicked himself through all of the how-to’s and first time user popups and went to ‘Archive’. He found photos. Lots of photos. All of them showed his bedroom. He slid the bar on the side down to the first photos, where his face and hands were seen as he placed the camera. The camera pointed directly onto his bed and there were several pictures of him dressing, undressing, turning in his sleep apparently…  
Will clicked through the pictures faster and faster. There was probably nothing there except him. It wasn’t like anyone else was invited into his – wait. Will sat upright. Someone was standing in his bedroom, back to the camera. A someone clad in a suit. In a familiar fitted suit. He slowly clicked through the pictures. Hannibal seemed to inspect the bedroom, from what Will could see on the pictures. He went around the bed, inspected books next to the camera, if the angle was anything to go by. He went out of the room in one frame and returned in the other, having something black, some kind of fabric in his hand. The next frame showed the black fabric on his bed and Hannibal, folded jacket in hand, placing it on the nightstand next to the lamp. Hannibal sat down on his bed and proceeded to do something that the camera hadn’t caught. In the next frames, Hannibal was laying down on Will’s bed, shoes off. Was he sleeping in Wills bed when he wasn’t there? Hannibal proceeded to unbutton his shirt. Wills heart began to beat faster.   
It was like porn in slow motion, Wills brain supplying all the steps between frames. Hannibal started with the first button in one frame and had unbuttoned all except one in the next. Then he had his shirt open and his fly. Then he had his hand in his pants and one hand on the black fabric. Then the hand was on his member, in the next photo as well. In the next frame, the hand was on a downwards stroke and Hannibal had the black fabric pressed against his face. Hannibal was masturbating in Will’s bed. Will looked at the date and timestamp in the corner. Three days after he had installed the camera. He had done this three and a half weeks ago. At the time when one of the murders Will suspected him off was happening three towns over. He saw the flush along Hannibal’s cheeks and the up and down motion of his hand and the grip of the black fabric. He saw Hannibal’s member getting harder, standing more upright. And then, he saw what caused him to get hard in his sweatpants. Hannibal had changed his grip on the black fabric and it had shifted, revealing a partial logo. It was one of Will’s T-shirts. Hannibal was rubbing one out, in Wills bed, with one of Will’s T-shirts pressed to his nose. Probably one of the T-shirts he had worn and discarded into the hamper. Holy shit. Will was hot all over.   
Holy shit.   
Hannibal’s alibi for one of the murders Will thought he committed was self-loving. In Will’s house. On his bed. WITH WILLS SMELL IN HIS NOSE!  
Fucking Christ. Will’s brain short-circuited and he wasn’t sure what had him flustered and embarrassed and turned on more. Hannibal was hot and seeing him splayed out like that, flushed and needy and precum glistening on the tip did things to Will. It would probably turn Will on regardless of context. He was watching a man he knew in real life masturbating and that wasn’t like porn at all. This was something very different. He couldn’t say how, but it was. And the whole him-thing, his house, his bed, his T-shirt… that did things to Will too. Flustering, phantasy inducing things.   
On the other hand, Will felt like a peeping Tom, like he was watching something he shouldn’t.   
And all of this was so, soooo wrong!   
He was watching a serial killer that had broken into his home defiling his bed. Will didn’t know what to do and closed his laptop.   
He took a shower, which normally would have cleared his head, but it didn’t work this time. Instead, his hand wrapped around his own throbbing erection, soapy and wet, sliding up and down like Hannibal’s hand had done to himself on Will’s bed. Fuck. Will came feeling very conflicted and when he had dried himself off, he couldn’t even walk into his bedroom without his face being set aflame. Fuck his life. The profiler in love with the serial killer suspect. Fuck. His. Life.   
Will took one look at his bed and decided to sleep on the couch.


	3. Chapter Two

The next couple of interactions Will and Hannibal have are decidedly strained and uncomfortable.   
Hannibal has invited him to dinner but knowing the cannibalistic nature of Hannibal’s sisters death and Hannibal’s murders dampens Will’s appetite drastically. Also, Will suspects that Hannibal still has cannibalistic tendencies and really doesn’t want to munch on one of his victims.   
He excuses himself before desert and drives home. He knows he shouldn’t do it, he knows he should talk with Hannibal, probably with a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans, but he can’t not do it. He gets his laptop and pulls up the pictures. He can feel his descend into madness, his morals slipping away with every stroke because he is in love with a (maybe) killer and he has no problem with said killer invading his home and privacy. Instead, he gets off on it. His mind is seriously fucked up. Will knows all that, he knows that this is probably sick and twisted but the self-hatred he had felt that first time is gone. He is in love with Hannibal and Hannibal likes him enough to masturbate with one of Will’s T-shirts. Hannibal takes care of him, holds and steadies him in all the ways Will needs him to and nobody could ever replace that feeling of freedom. Will’s thoughts drift to BDSM when he lies on his bed, panting, sweating, totally spent. It is pretty obvious that he is a sub and Hannibal is his dom. Will loves to let go of control and Hannibal is there to catch him every time. It is basically a dom-sub relationship without the sexual aspects. Will tries to argue himself into believing that it isn’t true, but it is and he has stopped lying to himself since his brain came back online in the hospital.   
He cleans himself up and goes to sleep, dreaming of strong hands petting him. 

Will goes to his first session with Hannibal since his hospitalisation and every time he looks at Hannibal he sees the man, face flushed, cock straining. Hannibal notices of course and asks some very pointed questions.   
Will doesn’t know how it happened but one moment, he stands in front of the bookshelf, Hannibal behind him, and the next, he has gripped Hannibal’s shirt and has pressed the larger man against the books. Hannibal looks down at him, one eyebrow raised.   
Will doesn’t decide consciously to let it all out, but when he opens his mouth and the first words fall out, he is fully on board with his decision.  
“You knew my hallucinations came from the encephalitis. It is very likely that you killed a couple of people, but not every murder counted as being one of the Chesapeake Rippers was done by you. You are attracted to me and take care of me, but you didn’t do anything about the encephalitis and you- you- I JUST CAN’T FIGURE YOU OUT!”   
Will pulls Hannibal towards him and then slams him against the shelf hard with every word he screams. “What the fuck do you want from me Hannibal? Do you think I’m your get-out-of-jail-free-card? Or do you just want to fuck me? Or do you want to taste me, eat me up and carve chess board figurines out of my bones? Do you want my corpse arranged like the Botticelli picture you made with your first victims in Italy?”   
Hannibal has had his customary smirk on his face but it vanishes with the last sentence. Hannibal pushes him back and slaps Will in the face. Not hard, but it stings.   
“You are the reason why I’m not trampling around in the darkness of my own mind anymore and you think I would kill you? You misdiagnosed love, I’m not a masochist. I would never carve my own heart out.”   
And there it is. In a twisted, convoluted way Hannibal has just admitted his love for Will. He has called Will his heart and for a former (?) cannibal, that has to be especially significant. Will starts to laugh hysterically. A cannibal who calls another person his heart! This is hilarious! Fucked up beyond repair and absolutely insane. And Will finds it romantic and cute and he wants to kiss Hannibal so, so badly. They are a fucked up pair. Instead of Cloud 9, they are probably in a underground bordello in room 666. Will laughs even harder. Hannibal manoeuvres him into one of the seats and kneels in front of him, watching Will carefully.   
Will gasps and tries to get what he thought was so funny out between laughing.   
“A cannibal… calling the person… he loves… his heart!” Will cracks up again and Hannibal joins in, chuckling.   
When Will calms down, he looks at Hannibal, the taller man being nearly on eye level. He places his right hand on Hannibal’s cheek and the other man closes his eyes and leans into it, like a cat being petted. Will leans forward and presses his lips to Hannibal’s. He closes his eyes and leans to the left, moving his mouth against Hannibal’s, massaging his lips with his own.   
“Finish up your patients and come round to dinner tonight. My place.”   
Will feels like a million bucks when he stands up and leaves Hannibal speechless in his wake.


	4. Epilogue

Will has cleaned his house and a spinach-ricotta-lasagna is bubbling in the oven. He has groomed himself and hasn’t used the aftershave Hannibal dislikes so much.   
Will is nervous and has no idea why. He has had dinner with the man, he has had conversations, has opened up about his secrets and yet, this date feels so much more intimate.   
The doorbell rings and Will runs to the door, catching himself on the doorframe before he runs into the door. He opens the door and there he is, dressed in an immaculate, tailored suit, looking absolutely delectable with a wicker basket in one hand. Hannibal greets him and holds up the basket.   
“I brought wine. Chianti.” Will guides him to the kitchen and Hannibal follows him. Will opens a drawer and hands Hannibal the corkscrew. Instead of taking a bottle out of his basket and opening it, Hannibal inspects the corkscrew.   
“Hmm.”  
Will smiles. Trust Hannibal to recognise what he’s holding. Will opens a different drawer, collects something and closes in on Hannibal.   
“Allow me.”  
He presses against the taller mans side and glides his hand over the hand that holds the corkscrew. Will takes the corkscrew and deposits something else in Hannibal’s hand. Then he retrieves a bottle from the basket and opens it.   
“My dear Will, you surprise me yet again. These are antiques.”   
Will grins and pours both himself and Hannibal a glass.   
“They are more than antiques. Those are collectors’ items. The one you are holding is a German Lutman mermaid corkscrew and the first one is a tri colore lady leg corkscrew. Both quite rare and valuable.”  
He holds out one glass to Hannibal.   
“You probably searched my whole house, you probably know everything there is to know about me, except how I invest my money. Well, now you know.”  
Hannibal takes one deliberate step after another till he has Will against the kitchen counter and they are pressed together from their legs to their torsos.   
“I will never know everything there is to know, but I would like to try.”

The timer for the lasagna beeps and Hannibal steps away. Will pushes his wineglass into his hand and directs him to sit down at the kitchen table. He turns off the timer and serves first Hannibal, then himself.   
“Why corkscrews?”   
Will grins. “I was burgled a couple of times. Then I figured that thieves go after things that they know are valuable and easy to sell. If I invest in things not easily recognised as valuable and not easily sold, they can come in, but they won’t find much. Or the items are so easy to identify that they don’t get away with it.”   
Hannibal laughs. Will takes the dish back to the oven to keep it warm, returns to the table and sits down. Hannibal and he clink glasses and tuck in. Hannibal first tries the ricotta sauce, then the tomato-spinach sauce, then tries a piece with both. He leans towards Will and pats him on the head. “You are certainly creative and smart, at least when it comes to dining and investments. I’m positively surprised by you.” Will flushes, partly because of the praise and partly because of the feeling he gets from Hannibal petting him.   
They eat and make Smalltalk. Politics, Art, Music and combinations thereof are discussed and Will thinks that he never ever had a date this interesting before.   
They do the washing up together and migrate to the sofa. Naturally, the conversation comes to a halt with the new seating arrangement and Hannibal places his wineglass on the coffee table.  
“I’m not going to deny that I did have a psychosis and did some things that I’m not proud of. I would probably be arrested if someone knew. I’m slowly building myself back up. You were the first anchor that stopped me from floating around with nothing but revenge that I couldn’t have on my mind. I have more anchors now, because I noticed that something went wrong. I figured your encephalitis out shortly before you were admitted. If you weren’t, I would have admitted you myself. Would you permit one question?”  
Will nodds.   
“You told me that I should keep it professional. That we shouldn’t socialize. When did you decide to change that?”  
Will actively thinks about Trump playing Tennis to stop himself from flushing. “I will answer your question at a later date. First, I want to make some things clear: If you want to have me, human meat is off the table. As food, as a topic, as a fun hobby. If you kill someone, except in self-defence, the evidence I have will go to the FBI. If you kill me, the evidence will go to the FBI. If you encourage someone else to kill, the evidence will go to the FBI. Can you agree to those terms?”

Hannibal shows no emotion. “I’m sorry Will, but I can’t- I, I’m a killer. I like to kill and I don’t know if I could stop.”  
Will thought about it. Hannibal would probably not be the same person Will had fallen in love with if he changed everything about himself.  
“Would you be amenable to me helping you decide on the victims?”  
They look into each others eyes. This is the one problem they potentially couldn’t overcome. This is the one stumbling block. Hannibal nods slowly. Will takes his wineglass in one hand and holds the other out to Hannibal. “Bonnie.”, he says. Hannibal stares for just a second, then shakes his hand. “Clyde.”  
They clink their wineglasses together and Will cuddles up to Hannibal while turning on the TV.   
Hannibal wraps Will in his arms and they cuddle up on the couch, watching a documentary about rainforests.   
“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.”


End file.
